


Fuzzy Logic

by distantstarlight



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Jealous John, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 22:17:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1915923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distantstarlight/pseuds/distantstarlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock are best friends that's why John isn't bothered at all when Sherlock tells him he's about to go out on a date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's All Fine

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a one-shot. I have issues with keeping things brief.
> 
> Ravenwolf36 - as always you are a darling, thanks for giving this a bit of a read for me in advance.

Sherlock was dating someone and that was fine, just fine. John washed the dishes calmly, making sure that all the plates were thoroughly cleaned and that the cups practically shone. By the time he got to the pots and pans the scrubber had become a weapon of mass destruction and no bit of grit was safe from its powers. John was cleaning up after dinner and listening to Sherlock hum happily to himself as he got dressed. He’d already showered and shaved.

John scrubbed the kitchen table with fervor. He definitely wasn’t listening to Sherlock mutter about ties or no ties. No. This table hadn’t been cleaned properly in who knows how long. People ate here for heaven’s sake! There shouldn’t be mystery goo on a table where people ate. John was just being conscientious when he took out the strongest cleaning fluid he could locate and used it liberally on their kitchen table, even getting the legs and as much of the underside as he could reach without kneeling.

“John? On a first date, gauche or not to already have condoms on you?” Unbelievable! Why would Sherlock ask him that? “I’m asking you because you nearly always bring some with you on all your dates. Rather ambitious of you but you are a soldier. So? Condoms. Yes or no?”

“Are you planning on having sex?” asked John, he was a doctor and he worried for Sherlock health, that’s why he felt hollow and anxious. No other reason. Certainly NOT because John had several times caught himself gazing at Sherlock’s behind and wondering what it felt like. No, those were accidental thoughts he’d meant to have about women because Sherlock’s ass was so plush.

“No, but being prepared seems logical. The date hasn’t even started yet. I have to give it at least five full minutes before I make a decision.” What? Sherlock was going to decide to have sex with his date within the first five minutes? Who was this person? Sherlock hadn’t dated before, why was he dating now?

John finished with the table and decided the stove could use a good going over. He was in the process of scrubbing off the patina that had built up around the burners when Sherlock arrived in the kitchen, “How do I look?”

John turned and his mouth dried. Sherlock was stunning. He looked like a movie star. His suit was crisp and black; his shirt was snowy white but his hair! Sherlock had somehow tamed his hair, slicking it back so it was smooth and posh instead of wild and untamed. A long narrow tie was neatly hanging and drew John’s eyes down to Sherlock’s narrow waist and his form fitting trousers, “Amazing.” he whispered and then flushed, “I’ve never seen you look so respectable.” he fumbled as a recovery for his unintentional slip.

“Respectable. Hmm. Well, it’s too late to change now, he’ll be waiting.” Him? Sherlock was going out with a him? Did that mean Sherlock was gay because John didn’t know. He’d never had the nerve to ask. Sherlock left after slipping his feet into a pair of designer shoes John had never seen before. Maybe the cupboards needed cleaning. There were lots of things that needed inspecting and possibly discarding in there.

Later on when the entire kitchen gleamed softly John was sipping tea and watching telly. One of those entertainment shows was on where they tracked celebs and their goings on off-screen. One handsome actor was being interviewed, pausing for a second to adjust his date’s tie before resuming the conversation with the reporter. John’s teacup crashed to the floor. The actor’s date was Sherlock who was smiling happily into the other man’s eyes.

John cleaned the broken cup up and dealt with the tea stain on the carpet. His mind was numb and buzzing. Sherlock was dating a famous actor. A handsome famous actor. A tall, handsome, famous actor who had dark shining hair just like Sherlock, who could stand beside the towering detective and look him straight in the eyes. They had looked comfortable together, like they were used to one another.

John cleaned the bathroom. He wasn’t troubled at all. It was good for Sherlock to finally get out there, see what there was to see. John did it all the time. Granted not so much lately, after all, getting divorced after your wife tells you that she’s pregnant with another man’s baby isn’t really conducive to further romantic experimentation but John would have gotten back into the game eventually. Just because he was now accustom to spending all his free time with Sherlock didn’t mean Sherlock owed John all that time. Sherlock was free to spend his time with whomever he pleased, it didn’t matter to John. Nope, not a bit.

He dusted the bookshelves after there was nothing left to scrub in the bathroom. They needed a good going over. Mrs. Hudson wouldn’t mind the Hoover on this late at night, or it would take forever to remove the inch of dust that covered everything. One at a time John worked his way through all the books in the front room. John cleaned the skull, getting a micro-fibre cloth and polishing it till even its teeth gleamed. It was late now and Sherlock was still gone. John took a shower finally and went to bed, feeling restless and out of sorts.

He was woken at four in the morning by Sherlock, “John, it’s alright. John, you were having a dream, it was just a dream.” Sherlock’s voice was soft and comforting and his hand was on John’s. John took a shuddering breath and let the memories of friends he had lost fade back into his subconscious where they lived. With his voice still gentle and almost tender Sherlock asked, “Do you need some tea?”

John nodded and Sherlock helped him up. He was stiff with the shock of the dream but Sherlock seemed to understand, helping John get his robe on and waiting for him to get into his house-shoes before going downstairs. John stopped. Sherlock’s date was standing in the front room and he looked surprised to see John, “Oh. I thought he was asleep.”

“Well he’s not so you can leave now. It’s been lovely.” Sherlock went to the kitchen and seated John. After putting the kettle on Sherlock went back out front and all John could hear was a soft conversation between the two men and then a moment of silence before the door to the flat opened and shut. Sherlock came back alone.

He made tea for John, a tiny bit too sweet and a little too weak but still very drinkable. John sighed with relief, “You haven’t had a bad dream in a long time John. Is something the matter?” Sherlock’s voice had gone back to being soft and gentle; his hand twitching towards John’s as if he wanted to hold it. He didn’t and John didn’t move.

“I don’t think so. Maybe I’m just not used to sleeping in silence.” Sherlock normally rattled around all night long, not falling asleep until just before John got up and not coming out of his room until late in the morning. Now John was uncomfortably aware that Sherlock probably would have been making a very different category of noise in a short while, and wondered if that would have helped John sleep or would have made his nightmares worse. Probably worse.

“I was going to start a set of experiments tonight; do you want to stretch out on the sofa? I can start the fire.” Sherlock’s offer was a surprise. John’s smile seemed to be all the answer Sherlock needed so the tall man went, and still wearing his finery, Sherlock started the fire. He got out their orange shock blanket with a small laugh and dropped it onto John who was already ensconced on the sofa with their Union Jack pillow under his head.

John felt calm and content now. He was warm and cozy, the flames were hypnotic, and Sherlock was clattering around the kitchen in his now familiar dance with science. “Don’t ruin your suit!” he admonished and laughed at Sherlock’s derisive snort. John’s face still bore a small smile as he drifted away and slept deeply.

Two case-filled weeks later John came back from an evening shift at the clinic to find the flat empty. Sherlock had left nearly an entire meal in the fridge so John reheated it and ate it up, knowing full well the detective wouldn’t touch it again. At least it was one of John’s favorites from the take-away a few blocks away.

John flicked on the telly while he sipped his tea and finished his meal. Some kind of award thing was happening. John stopped eating when he saw that actor again. He had a beard. How fast did this man’s facial hair grow? Dammit, what was his name again? John couldn’t recall, why hadn’t he asked Sherlock? Why was he wearing sunglasses when nobody else was?

Speak of the devil there he was. Sherlock was once again by the tall man’s side. He had his curls slicked back again, and was wearing another gorgeous suit. Was it the same one? They had drinks in their hands. Suddenly something catchy must have come on because both men suddenly broke out dancing, fingers snapping and heads moving. Sherlock looked amazing and the other man looked so happy. John heard a distant clatter and when he looked down the last few bites of his meal had slid to the floor along with his tea. John had just let go of everything.

 

John shut off the programme and cleaned up the mess, no longer hungry. He washed up, went through the fridge and discarded the more questionable items stored therein, re-bagged two of Sherlock’s experiments before they were ruined, and then scrubbed out the oven. John took himself to the bathroom and sorted out their well-used medical kit, making a list of everything that needed refilling or topping up before finally retiring for the night, almost completely sleepless.

Sherlock came home close to dawn. He was alone, or at least, John couldn’t hear evidence of anyone with him. John thought he heard Sherlock take at least three of the stairs that led to his room but then there was nothing until John heard the distinctive click of Sherlock’s bedroom door being closed. He slept.

The next day started late and John was making himself his first cup of tea when a very rumpled looking Sherlock stumbled into the kitchen. John tried not to obviously check him out but a fast scan didn’t reveal any love-bites or other indications of the date. John suddenly wondered why he needed to look and turned back to making breakfast in silence. “John?”

“Yes?”

“I need to check out the markets today, can you come with me?” John absolutely LOVED the markets! There was always something unusual to look at, vendors came from all over the world it seemed and lots of times there was food. John didn’t even care why Sherlock needed to go. He wasn’t working today anyway so he was completely at Sherlock’s disposal.

“Sounds good, want a bite first?”

“I’ll just steal from you. I’m not that hungry.” John shrugged and cracked an extra egg for his scramble. Sherlock seemed able to survive on bites stolen from John’s plate or the corners of John’s sandwiches; he rarely sat down for a whole meal of his own. If John didn’t eat the left-overs their fridge would be filled to the brim with cartons of mostly uneaten food. Sherlock would take two or three bites at most and then just stop. John didn’t know how he survived but he seemed to.

They drank their tea and Sherlock forked over more than his portion but John didn’t complain. Sherlock kept eating until there was nothing left to share. It was more than the too-thin man normally ate and that was nothing but good. Next time John fixed himself a plate of something he’d put extra-extra on.

They left in a good mood. Sherlock got a cab for them, stopping a short way from the market before walking the remainder of the distance. John stepped briskly, long used to the quick pace his best friend normally kept. They both slowed as they entered the teeming mass of humanity and then for John the rest of the day was perfect.

Sherlock seemed intent on perusing every single item on display and John was content to trail along after him. The detective asked penetrating questions about the goods being sold and made John eat sample after sample of food-stuffs for sale, forcing the doctor to critique each mouthful afterward. They wandered away from one another on occasion but more or less spent the entire day nearly pressed shoulder to shoulder. John did a bit of discrete shopping, packing a grin away when his best friend came close once more, again bearing a food item he wanted John to try. John was simply stuffed by the time the night arrived and they had seen everything there was to be seen. “I need to think.” exclaimed Sherlock who got another taxi and took them both home.

John flopped onto the sofa feeling almost uncomfortable. Sherlock paced back and forth before picking up his violin and beginning to play in an absent-minded manner. John really liked it and fell into a refreshing nap. When John woke up it was one in the morning and Sherlock wasn’t there. His bedroom door was shut so John assumed he was in bed. John took a bit of left-over paper from the cartoon section of the newspaper and wrapped up the small box he’d had hidden in his pocket. “For fun.” he wrote on another scrap and left them both on Sherlock’s violin case before going to bed. He had an early morning shift but he could still get in a few more hours of luxurious sleep.

When John came back from work later that day the wrapped box was gone and Sherlock with it. There were no notes, no anything but a bottle of temporary hair dye at the bottom of the bin. It was for blond hair and John’s brow crinkled. He wouldn’t have. No.

John turned on the telly, randomly flicking around till he found another one of the programmes that followed celebrities around. There was the actor. What were people shouting? Fuzzy? John didn’t understand because he didn’t give a shit who the actor was. Sherlock was once again by his side, their arms around each other, both of them grinning like fools. Sherlock was blond. John felt his heart stutter to a stop. He looked so happy with the Fuzzy man. John felt gray and insubstantial for a long moment as if the world had stretched away from him on a huge elastic and then rudely snapped back.

Sherlock was dating a man named Fuzzy and was so enamoured he’d gotten rid of his beautiful dark curls to go blond and chic. John didn’t notice his hand tremble or that he’d needed to sit back rather hard. His heart was pounding painfully and something both icy and fiery was making its way through him. What was this? John made himself breathe until the overwhelming sensation calmed. His fists were clenched tight. John was jealous.

What? He had no right to be jealous. Sherlock was free to date anyone he wanted to, just like John was. Okay, John wasn’t deliberately sabotaging the date the way Sherlock normally did, but most of those calls were Sherlock’s way of gathering data, and a convenient way of vetting the kind of women who would be too squeamish to date a man like John for a long-term period. While Sherlock grinned around, the Fuzzy man spoke to another reporter, twisting back occasionally to smile into Sherlock’s eyes and John caught a glimmer at the Fuzzy man’s waist.

John’s gift, Sherlock was wearing John’s gift! For a giggle John had purchased a pair of hand-made silver cufflinks from a journeyman silver-smith. It hadn’t been pricy because one of the bees was much larger than the other, the smaller one with a slightly bent wing. Now Sherlock was wearing HIS cheap joke gift while out for a date with ANOTHER MAN!

John didn’t know if he felt upset or elated. Sherlock had yet to say a word about his new relationship. John had waited. Sherlock didn’t say a word about his dates, didn’t say a thing about being on TV or for even knowing the probably wildly famous Fuzzy, whoever he was. Still, whenever Fuzzy turned to look at Sherlock John could see the dull glitter of the silver bee at Sherlock’s wrist and perversely he felt better.


	2. Coats and Jumpers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's not feeling too great about Sherlock's new love-interest but what's to be done about it?

John sat up this time and waited. The telly was muted but still on as John sat the hours quietly away, thinking deeply about how seeing those cufflinks affected him. Finally he heard the street door open, and a single pair of feet climbing the stairs. Sherlock glanced over at him sitting on the sofa and hung up his coat quietly. “John.”

“You dyed your hair. You look good.” Sherlock scrubbed a hand through his hair in irritation. “The new look suits you.”

“It was either ginger or blond, I tried the blond.” Sherlock sagged into his chair with his hands over his face. “I should have gone for the ginger, I look too washed out.”

“No, you look great. Classic.” All Sherlock needed was a well-aged glass of something expensive, and a cigar, he could be in one of those old black-and-white movies as the leading man. John felt wrinkled and small.

“It was only for tonight. I’m dying it back tomorrow. All I want is to climb into my pajamas and relax.” said Sherlock and he sounded weary. He went to his room to change so John put the kettle on for tea. Sherlock came back and gave a huge sigh of contentment when he saw his steaming cup waiting for him, “Just what I needed.”

Sherlock didn’t say a word about the cufflinks though John had seen them clearly. Instead the tall man seemed to soak in the silence, absorbing the peace of the early morning and the company of his best friend. The peace was disturbed when a text notification chimed discretely from Sherlock’s phone. The man read it, texted back and dropped it on the table. “I’ve got to get some sleep. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow. Thanks for the tea John.”

Sherlock got up and rubbed his hand over John’s shoulder, seeming to be lost in thought as he took himself to bed. John had to sit in the kitchen for a while. His shoulder seemed warm and tingly now, Sherlock’s fingers had squeezed the tiniest bit and it had felt affectionate. John wanted to savor the fleeting moment in case he didn’t get another.

The next morning there was another bottle of dye in the bin, this one a close match to Sherlock’s natural hair color. Once again John didn’t know how to feel especially when he found a soft bundle wrapped in old newspaper sitting in the middle of the kitchen table. He opened it to find a chunky handmade jumper in blue, the same color as Sherlock’s favorite scarf. It was badly made but John loved it because it had come from Sherlock. When John put it on it actually fit very nicely and he was instantly warm and comfy. It smelled vaguely of Sherlock and John wondered if the man had kept it in his wardrobe or something.

John wore his new jumper to work and was cooed over by all the nurses, “Someone put a lot of love into that!” they all squealed as they examined the poorly joined arms and the very slightly uneven collar. It made John feel good that Sherlock had gone out of his way to find something hand-crafted just the way John preferred, probably at the market. There was a lot of character in his new jumper and John appreciated the amount of work that had gone into it. Sherlock could have easily gone back to the marketplace pick something up without John knowing.

Sherlock was gone again when John came home that afternoon, if he’d even been there when John had left. Dinner was in the fridge though, another one of John’s favorites, a spicy chicken vindaloo on a plate. Sherlock must not have felt like eating out of the container for once. John ate happily because at least a third was missing which meant that Sherlock had eaten something, and that always made John happy. After his meal John sat back down in front of the telly with one of the refreshingly cold beers that had also appeared in their fridge. It was a slightly pricier brand than John normally could afford but Sherlock never stinted when he could be arsed to shop so John just enjoyed it. With resignation he clicked the telly on, the channel already on the celebrity stalker show.

There were just clips today but John definitely saw Sherlock walking beside the still bearded Fuzzy, both their hands buried in their own trouser pockets. They looked to be in serious discussion with one another but John could only focus on the velvet coat Sherlock was wearing. John was suddenly struck with the urge to run his hands up and down Sherlock’s chest to enjoy the soft warm texture. Jealousy raged for a second. Why didn’t Sherlock take him out like this, all posh and done up, surrounded by posh and done up people? Well, not that John wanted that, in fact it sounded downright horrible, THAT WASN’T THE POINT! John was fuming now because this Fuzzy character was sharing all these special moments with Sherlock when it should be JOHN!

 

 

John sagged back again feeling bereft. The clothes they were both wearing were probably worth more than John earned in a month. He’d have to save up for ages to afford the sort of place you’d wear clothes like that to. Not exactly a winning move if you tried to woo someone but were only able to take them out on a single date because you couldn’t afford two.

Fuck that! John was a fucking soldier! He wasn’t going to let some unshaven fashion horse take HIS Sherlock away! Even though he wasn’t actually John’s, THAT WASN’T THE POINT EITHER! John was arguing furiously with himself. THE POINT was that John clearly had repressed feelings for Sherlock, ones that were getting a little louder every day! Fuck the Fuzzy man and fuck everyone. John was going for gold. He was going to win Sherlock away from his rival. He didn’t know how Fuzzy had done it but no one knew Sherlock Holmes better than Captain John Hamish Watson.

He started right away. Sherlock said his day would be long. He’d come home tired, wanting to rest. Well then. John went to Sherlock’s room and stripped his bed off. It was a day early but John remade Sherlock’s bed with all fresh sheets and even a fresh duvet, the old one needing a serious airing out. John took it to the roof and hung it over the rack Mrs. Hudson kept there exactly for that purpose. John took Sherlock’s laundry too, sending his suits to the cleaners but everything else went to the basement suite to join the regular laundry queue.

John cleaned out the fridge then went to the shops. When he came back he washed up the set of long flat storage bins he’d found and set them out to dry. He made a call and after some intense negotiation he took the bins and left the flat, returning almost two hours later. He stowed everything in the fridge and turned the oven on. Another hour and a half had the whole flat smelling sweet and rich, the freshly baked chocolate cupcakes now cooling and waiting to be dipped in the smooth chocolate sauce John had whisked up. A touch of white chocolate sprinkles and a lovely plate of John’s first volley were set on the table along with a note indicating his second volley which would be waiting in the fridge for when he came home. It was late now and John was pleasantly tired from his exertions. Feeling satisfied John went to sleep.

Their voices woke him up. John could definitely hear the other man laughing downstairs. The fucker was in the kitchen! He was eating John’s cupcakes with Sherlock! No fucking way! John didn’t know what to do. It was very late in the morning; maybe he could go down anyway and just be a third wheel. Oh god, what if they went to Sherlock’s room together? Could John bear to see that? He wasn’t sure so he cowered in his room. It got quiet and John didn’t hear any doors open or close. What were they doing?

He couldn’t take it. John went downstairs. They were in the front room now. Both men were sitting very near to one another on the sofa, their faces close together. John’s rage burned hot but his kept his voice mild, “Oh. I thought I was dreaming. I only came down for water.”

Sherlock got right up and came over, his hand resting warmly on John’s shoulder again. He asked softly so Fuzzy couldn’t hear, “Bad dreams?” John shook his head almost imperceptibly and unconsciously reached up to squeeze Sherlock’s fingers back. “Ah, we woke you, I apologize John. He was just leaving anyway.” Another squeeze and what felt like a brief trail of fingers and Sherlock left John standing alone in the kitchen. Another murmured conversation and then Fuzzy was gone.

Sherlock shambled in and he looked just exhausted. “Go change, I’ll make you tea.” offered John. Sherlock smiled and nodded, taking himself away. John heard a ‘thanks John’ coming from the bedroom. The freshly made bed was appreciated. Good. When Sherlock came back wearing his freshly laundered if holey tee-shirt and favorite robe John handed him his tea, “I got you a surprise. Well, a lot of surprises. They’re in the fridge.”

Sherlock put his cup right down and went over. He pulled out all the covered containers. “John! They’re abnormal! How did you know?” Inside each tray was an assortment of body parts, all of which had suffered some kind of defect.

“Well you’ve been working on that paper on evolution vs chemical influence for a while. I called Molly, she’s had these on ice for some time so they’re not the best samples in the world but I thought you’d like to take a look anyway.” John was watching Sherlock intently.

Sherlock set everything out, unthinkingly snagging a cupcake and downing it in only two bites. “This is fantastic. Look at the way the bone has curved! Oh John, this is perfect!” Sherlock didn’t seem to realize he’d snaked an arm around John and given him a one-armed hug as well as a crumb-filled kiss on the top of the head. Sherlock was already engrossed in an initial survey of his new treasures.

“They’re still frozen so you’ll have to wait till tomorrow.” cautioned John and Sherlock looked over at him with the brightest happiest shining eyes he’d ever seen on the man. John felt warm all the way to the soles of his feet. This time the hug John received was deliberate and made with both arms, “I guess you liked it?”

“I love it John. This is the nicest surprise I’ve ever gotten, even better than the cufflinks.” John smiled up at his friend and Sherlock smiled back down at him, “I thought those were very clever. One could be me and one could be you, guess which one?” Oh, John hadn’t thought of that but he poked Sherlock in the ribs anyway for teasing him about his height using his own gift to mock him. Sherlock laughed merrily and squeezed John’s shoulder again before stowing the semi-frozen bits back in the fridge.

“I liked the jumper. I wore it to work. All the nurses thought it looked very smart.” John smiled back at Sherlock and was a little surprised to see a tinge of pink in Sherlock cheek, “It could be one of my favorites now.” he added and the pink got deeper.

“It fit alright?” asked Sherlock almost too casually.

“Yeah actually it fits perfectly.” John was a bit bemused when Sherlock’s whole face went dusky and he turned away from John.

“I’m glad you enjoy it John, I look forward to seeing you in it.”

“Well you’ll be sick of it soon enough because I’m wearing it all the time.” John threw another grin Sherlock’s way and was rewarded with a return smile.

“That will be lovely John.”

They sat out front on the sofa. John was NOT deliberately sitting where the Fuzzy man sat to eradicate his scent, no of course he wasn’t. This was John’s normal seat, the intruder had used John’s half of the sofa. Just because John normally sat in his chair didn’t mean he didn’t sometimes sit on the sofa, right next to Sherlock, their adjoining knees pressed unconsciously together. Stuff like that just happened when you lived in a small place.

“Mind if I watch the news? There’s a story I’m following.” Sherlock didn’t normally ask. It was still very early but John just nodded and sank back to watch with him. He made it half-way through before he dozed off again, the scent of Sherlock next to him somehow soothing.

John woke up in Sherlock’s arms. They’d fallen asleep side by side but somehow Sherlock had managed to scoop John up while they slept and was cuddling the doctor on his lap like a giant plush toy. John felt weirdly relaxed until he looked at the clock. “FUCK” he was nearly late for work! Jumping off of Sherlock’s lap John washed and changed before barrelling out of the flat without a backward glance.

John’s day ended up being twice as long as he had anticipated thanks to a rather gruesome industrial accident that flooded the hospital with urgently injured workers. Every doctor who could make it was there, even working in the hallways to help as many people as they could as fast as they could manage. By the time he got home John was heart-sick as well as weary. Sherlock wasn’t in the flat but there was another meal waiting on a plate as well as a large slice of pie that had a note “Ice cream in freezer”. John reheated his meal and ate, having his pie with two scoops of the vanilla ice-cream he’d found waiting for him. After he finished he took a long hot shower until it grew cold and then put himself to bed, only barely conscious enough to wonder where Sherlock and Fuzzy were tonight. It was depressing.

He woke to violin music. It was sweet and aching. John felt tears on his cheek. Had he been crying? His body ached. John realized he must have had night-terrors again, he didn’t always remember. He lay there and listened to Sherlock play. The music slowly changed from sweet and aching to soft and playful and John smiled into his pillow. Sherlock was playing for him and he felt warm inside. Getting up John pulled on his robe and went down to see his best friend, 

“John.” There was a cup of tea waiting for him, “I was making one for myself, I wasn’t sure if you wanted to get up.”

“No, it’s perfect. Just what I need.” John found his throat thick and raspy. Had he been screaming? He flushed and looked at the floor; he hated it when he cried out like that. His throat seemed thick again and for an instant John feared he would cry once again.

John felt Sherlock’s hand cover his, “Are you well John?” Sherlock sounded worried, concerned.

John swallowed hard but nodded, “Bad night. I guess it brought some things back.” the smell of burned flesh, the cries of the wounded, the silence of those who cried no more. John shuddered without realizing and suddenly Sherlock was hugging him again, “It was awful.”

“It’s okay John. Do you want me to stay with you?” Did he? It was late enough to get up but John found he was still very tired so he nodded, “Come to my room. The bed is bigger.”

Okay then, John was going to lay down with Sherlock in Sherlock’s room. Why didn’t this feel unnatural? John soon found himself snugged under Sherlock’s heavy duvet, the taller man tucked in on his side of the bed humming softly, “Close your eyes John.” John closed his eyes and listened to Sherlock softly sing a gentle song in French. He drifted away with the deep tones melting into his mind, the last words of the chorus, “bon nuite mon amour”. John slept peacefully.


	3. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's getting more and more difficult for John Watson to repress how he feels towards his tall talented flatmate.

They had a case when he woke up. Sherlock practically forced him into his clothes and dragged him off into a taxi, thrusting a take-away cup of coffee and a wrapped sandwich at him. John ate and drank quickly as the taxi wound its way through traffic. The case was intense. A woman had taken it upon herself to remove all possible rivals from her love-interest’s life and now she had the poor man hidden away somewhere in the city. Sherlock was going through the things in her bedroom, trying to figure out where she kept him. The woman would not speak now that she was in custody.

“Sherlock, look,” John saw a pair of walking shoes. There was a blob of greyish mud on the edge of the sole. He recognized it, “The Thames, that bit where we found the man with the dog-napping ring.” that case had been very nearly a complete waste of time but a rather memorable slip had left John practically swimming in the clayish mess near the edge of the filthy Thames. There were also large effluent exits in the banks; a body could easily walk in if they knew what they were doing.

“John you are amazing.” breathed Sherlock and they were off. Three hours later John was trying to call Lestrade as Sherlock picked the lock to a steel cage holding the man, the cage having laboriously been built inside an abandoned utility room, far below London. He was babbling with fear, desperately worried about his female friends, some of whom had already been missing for a long time. Sherlock was harsh but not unkind, “Your friends that were with you when you were taken are with you still, the ones that were not may never likely be again. You have our condolences.” Sherlock offering condolences was so unusual that John actually stared at the man. Sherlock looked worried and mouthed the words, “Bit not good?” but John smiled and nodded, Sherlock had done fine. The taller man relaxed imperceptibly before helping the victim totter back to the outside world and safety.

John called once they were out and Donovan was her usual charming self as the Yard arrive on-scene, “Your boyfriend is showing you up Freak, what’s that feel like? He figured out where the victim was before you did.”

“To be outdone by someone as remarkable as John Watson is no insult, I have long known of his skill, it’s why I choose to work with him and no other. John is an exemplary detective; you really should be taking notes.” John was shocked but hid his surprise better than Donovan who gaped, clearly flabbergasted by Sherlock’s effusive compliment. With a swirl of his coat Sherlock stalked away to speak with Lestrade while John went to speak to the paramedics who were checking the victim over. Once all their responsibilities were taken care of, Sherlock hailed a taxi to take them back to Baker Street. John didn’t even notice he hadn’t corrected Donovan for calling him Sherlock’s boyfriend.

“My feet are killing me.” moaned John as he slumped on the seat. “I stink like the river too. Why is that? We didn’t even go in.”

“We crawled through the tunnels for a good bit before we found the right one. This suit is ruined.” Sherlock plucked at his trousers desultorily. The cabbie was scowling at them. Their stench would remain with him until he could get his upholstery cleaned. John slipped a card up front and Sherlock explained, “This place will offer you a discount if you give them this.” They had a deal with a service that Sherlock had kept from going under so the owner owed him a favor. They were more than happy with the steady stream of customers Sherlock and John sent their way.

It was the best shower John had ever had even if Sherlock had gone first and used up most of the hot water. With almost ecstatic moans John washed thoroughly twice over until it was too cold and he was forced to get out. Limping out of the bathroom in just his robe John was heading upstairs when he heard Sherlock call him out front.

The sofa was set up with a towel draped over the edge of John’s side and a steaming hot footbath waiting. “Come on John, before it cools.” Sherlock must have heated water up in a pot to get it that hot! John wasted no time though and gratefully sat himself down. It was almost hotter than he could bear but soon his feet adjusted and he oozed into the sofa happily. A few minutes saw Sherlock with his own matching footbath settled beside John, both men groaning with contentment as their cold sore feet relaxed and unfurled. It was the nicest time John had ever spent with Sherlock.

They waited until it was tepid before they stopped, Sherlock telling John just to rest his sore hip and patting his feet dry for him while they joked about getting old and creaky. Sherlock had a sore back and moved a bit stiffly. John was tired now; the tunnels had done a number on his hip and shoulder as well as his feet. “I’m calling for take-away.” Sherlock tapped an order out and sent it off so John trundled off slowly to make tea.

Their aches were much reduced after some paracetamols and dinner. Sherlock was still bending a bit funny so John made him kneel on the sofa with his back to John; “Returning the favor.” was all John said as he set about working the kinks out of Sherlock’s back. “Mind just having the robe around your waist?” asked John absently, not really thinking about what he was saying. There was a line of tension along Sherlock’s spine; it would just be easier to deal with it without the fabric getting in the way. Sherlock didn’t hesitate, he just dropped his robe and let it pool around his hips.

Sherlock’s skin was warm and soft, the muscles beneath it hard and flat like iron. John knew exactly how to press and twist to loosen them though and soon Sherlock was folded forward, groaning softly as his spine seemed to straighten and relax. They didn’t have oil so John was careful not to chafe his friend, “I had no idea how much that hurt until it didn’t anymore.” Sherlock sighed, almost limp and slumping forward until his head was almost to his knees. John didn’t want to stop so he didn’t. He worked his way up and down slowly, getting higher and lower each time until he was almost crouched over Sherlock’s back to work his neck and shoulders, daring greatly to sink his fingers into Sherlock’s curls to massage his scalp.

Sherlock’s moan could have been used to dub pornographic movies for years. No one could ever possibly tire of hearing a sound like that! John’s breath grew a bit heavier but he kept his fingers moving methodically, wishing desperately that he had on at least pants beneath his robe because his erection was very close to dripping onto Sherlock’s arse. John had been hard for a while now and had barely noticed but now precum was beginning to gather and bead. Who knows what might have happened if Sherlock’s mobile hadn’t rung out with a personalized tone “Sharp Dressed Man” and John knew without a word that his rival was calling. He pulled away and left the front room in silence, leaving Sherlock to answer in private.

One unsatisfying wank later John fell asleep alone in his room and slept till late in the morning where he woke alone in the flat. Sherlock was gone and he stayed gone for three days. John got the occasional text, mostly things like, “Bored John.” or “It takes 42 steps to walk from the limo to this club, isn’t that the Meaning of Life?” and one he wasn’t sure how to take, “I wrote that song for you”. What song? For who, him? Did Sherlock sent a text to the wrong number?

The oddest thing John got in those three lonely days was a picture Sherlock had sent him of a pair of ivory knitting needles. They looked old. Maybe they were from a case he was working on so John saved the picture and did bit of research. Nothing unusual showed, they were just ordinary knitting needles, if a bit aged. John didn’t understand but he often didn’t and so he just went about his day, taking himself to work for his evening shift.

John’s shift was ending when the news hit. All the nurses were gossiping about it and John wasn’t sure he wanted to discuss it with them; he was getting a lot of strange looks. John rushed home and turned on the TV to watch the celebrity news. The rumors he’d heard floating about were true! There it was on film, Sherlock and the Fuzzy having it out in public and oh my god, Sherlock broke off with the man in spectacular Sherlock fashion. Clearly he’d paid a lot of attention to John’s bad language because half the bleeped-out phrases Sherlock used John could clearly lip-read and recognized as particular favorites of his.

The Fuzzy man tried to storm off camera and John saw him walk past another man whose expression of shock and desperate hope was a mirror of John’s. Fuzzy reached out and patted the other man’s shoulder and they left together, camera’s flashing and reporters shouting. When they turned back to ask questions Sherlock had vanished.

John’s blog blew up. Thousands of comments were logged before he managed to figure out how to shut the option off. Fuzzy fans everywhere wanted to know all about Sherlock’s relationship and its brutal public ending. None of them wanted to know more than John. There was a ruckus outside. John went to the kitchen window and saw Sherlock pushing his way into Baker Street through a crowd of reporters. The door slammed loudly and John could hear the lock being thrown before Sherlock thundered upstairs.

John was just standing there in the kitchen staring at Sherlock who waltzed inside as if nothing happened. “I was just watching the telly.” said John. “Are you alright?”

Sherlock slowed and stilled, almost looking at the floor, “I’m better now.” was all he said but his voice was soft and careful. John suddenly felt horrible. Sherlock must be in a state. His relationship had just gone to hell right in the public eye, everyone in the country knew of it. Without thinking John stepped forward and pulled Sherlock in for a long hug, the taller man’s arms wrapping around John tightly, “I really am better now.” he insisted softly but didn’t let go.

“Come on, I’ll make a cuppa.” offered John but Sherlock shook his head, “No?”

“I want to change first if you don’t mind, I need a shower.” He needed some time to get his head together, he must be raw. John felt badly for his friend because John was so shallow he felt fantastic that Sherlock was suffering because it meant he wasn’t dating the Fuzzy man any longer. John was a jerk but at least he could still make tea.

“I’ll have a cup waiting for you when you’re done.” he promised. Sherlock nodded, looking tired and patted John’s arm much the same way the Fuzzy man had patted his friend. John realized he hadn’t moved until the shower started and then he went to put the kettle on. Deciding Sherlock looked peaky John made a small snack for them, a bit of food wouldn’t go amiss. Sherlock was too thin, he needed feeding up.

Sherlock came back eventually, his hair a nest of crazy curls again, wearing his worn out shirt and slightly saggy pants, the ties to his robe trailing behind him as he walked barefoot into the kitchen. He took a big sip of his tea and sighed heavily, “Absolutely perfect.” John pushed the snack toward Sherlock, just a bit of cheese and crackers with cold-cuts, nothing heavy. Sherlock ate every crumb and John made him a second cup of tea. When he was done Sherlock got up and looked down at John with a grave face, “We have to talk.”

John was concerned and followed Sherlock to the front room. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing at all or possibly absolutely everything, it really depends.” Well that was monumentally unhelpful! John gave Sherlock a look and got a frown back, “It’s not so simple except that it is. If it were easy I wouldn’t have to do it this way but there it is.” Sherlock sat down suddenly looking frustrated.

“Well maybe you can begin by telling me something I understand and then we’ll work at the stuff that’s confusing.” snapped John who hated it when Sherlock treated him like an idiot. He didn’t expect the outright agony that spread across Sherlock’s features, “What! What’s wrong Sherlock, tell me now!”

“It was a case. I wasn’t really dating him, it was for a case. He had a stalker and he didn’t know if it was his old lover who had been trying to reconcile with him or someone else. It was someone else. The public break-up was purely for the press, there was no relationship to end, merely a few well-planned public outings. The man is an actor after all.” Sherlock looked almost nervous, his fingers were twitching and he jumped up to begin pacing again. ‘I didn’t like it John. It felt wrong the entire time but I signed a non-disclosure contract and couldn’t tell you what I was doing. Keeping this from you now is no longer an obligation so I wanted you to know, I wasn’t dating someone else. I’m not like that.”

Someone else? Not like what? John must have looked so confused that Sherlock stopped his pacing and came to crouch right in front of John’s chair, “What? What didn’t you like Sherlock? Did you have to do something you didn’t want to do?” John was prepared to find the Fuzzy man and rip off protruding parts of his body if he’d caused Sherlock any sort of distress.

“I didn’t like keeping things from you. I didn’t like going places without you. I didn’t like people thinking I was with him, it didn’t feel right but it was a case and I was being paid to pretend so I did. It felt wrong.” Sherlock knelt, looking penitent, “We didn’t even kiss or anything, hugs and the like were as far as I would let him go. It felt wrong.”

Of course it did, Sherlock didn’t like to be touched. Most people never laid a finger on him. John was part of the small circle of individuals whom Sherlock trusted enough to allow close to him and since John was practically Sherlock’s full-time doctor he’d had to touch the detective plenty of times, usually to put him back together. “I really, really don’t understand and I get the feeling that I ought to.” said John.

“John, what if I told you that the meals you’ve been eating were one’s that I made?” John was stunned, those meals had been incredible. That curry had been one of the best John had ever had.

“Why would you do that?” he asked stupidly but Sherlock just continued.

“You liked the jumper?”

“You know I do, it’s my new favorite.” It really was. It was like wearing a hug from his best friend.

“I made it. I learned how and I made it, I’ve been working on it for weeks now, at night.” John was so stunned now he simply could not speak. Sherlock Holmes had learned how to do something as completely domestic as knitting to make him a jumper? A jumper that matched his scarf exactly!

“I love it Sherlock, I’m going to tell everyone you made it for me. I’ll wear it even more now; it’s officially my number one jumper.” John was so proud, so happy right then. Sherlock had done these lovely things just for him.

“It felt like cheating.” said Sherlock dully. “It was a case, I knew it was a case, and even if it hadn’t been there’s nothing real to cheat on, but it still felt that way. It made me ill. That’s why I did these things, to make it up somehow.”

“Cheating? On who?” once again John didn’t understand.

Sherlock looked at John for a long moment, “On you John. It felt like I was cheating on you which is patently ridiculous because you’re not gay, and we’re not dating, nor are we likely to ever date. You’re not gay. You mention it quite a lot.”

John winced. He did say that a lot. Loudly. Repeatedly. John stood up and went right up to Sherlock, tilting his head back to give Sherlock a serious look, “I’m not.” Sherlock’s face nearly crumpled but John just softly said, “It’s just you.” He kept his eyes on Sherlock’s and let him see, “It’s you Sherlock, I’ve been going mad wondering if I’d lost my very best friend forever. If it hadn’t been for all those little things you did for me I would have completely lost it. I missed you and I was so jealous.”

Sherlock looked entirely shocked. “You were jealous?”

“I hate that ponce, even now.” said John evenly, “He had his arm around you, he got to dance with you, he took you away. Yes, I was jealous. I am jealous.” Might as well throw it all in now, what could he lose?

“John I’m in love with you.” John sat down abruptly. He wasn’t near a chair so he ended up on the floor. Sherlock crouched down again and took John’s hand to help him up onto the sofa, “I have been for ages. This case was entirely awful and the only way I got through it was by trying to pretend he was you. It didn’t really work and I forced the issue tonight. I’d found all the evidence another investigator can use but I couldn’t do it anymore.”

“You stopped working on a case because you’re in love with me?” John knew he was repeating things but he couldn’t help it. He was too amazed.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and stood to pace back and forth, “John, yes, I stopped working a case because I’m in love with you! I can’t think properly, I need you with me, don’t you understand this yet? I am not good with reacting to emotions, sentiment, I don’t understand how to navigate this situation and it’s making me a bit crazy frankly. I can’t sort it out by myself so there’s nothing left to be done but tell you everything and hope that you can explain it all to me! John! Please, make sense of this for me!”


	4. Good and Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems that there's something more for John to discover, what a delight!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would be a good time to skip a chapter if you've never read my stuff before.

Sherlock needed John’s help and John had never let him down yet, he wasn’t going to start now. Sherlock looked miserable and sagged into the sofa, his body twisted away from John so he wasn’t looking the smaller man in the face. “Well, believe it or not I’ve already given this a bit of thought.” Sherlock looked at John, his face wary but curious, “I’m not gay.” Sherlock twisted his body away again, his shoulders hunched together, “I’m not gay but I guess I don’t really have to be. I’m not interested in men, I’m interested in you and you just happen to be a man but that doesn’t seem to matter to me.”

Sherlock looked over his shoulder at John, wary still, cautiously examining John’s face for information, “You’re interested?” Sherlock might have been acting a bit petulant but the way he was posed on the sofa right then was very distracting. His arse was aimed directly at John, his leg crossed over his other thigh but his torso twisted so Sherlock could look over his shoulder at the doctor. It made all of him seem….lush.

“Yeah.” said John, his voice a bit huskier than he intended but it made Sherlock smile almost invitingly, his leg moving just a tad so his behind looked rounder than ever. John realized he was staring at it but simply allowed his eyes to wander their way deliberately back up Sherlock’s body until their gaze met and sizzled, “I’d be very happy to make you mine if that’s what you really want.”

Sherlock moved like lightening, suddenly straddling John’s lap, barely touching the doctor but somehow making their near embrace the most intimate thing John had ever experienced. Slowly Sherlock bent his head until their mouths were almost touching, the heat from their skin mingling instead, “That’s what I want John.”

Sherlock let John close the distance between them and John groaned as Sherlock opened for him like a flower. Their lips pressed together and John tasted Sherlock for the first time, taking the kiss as deeply as he could manage until Sherlock was nearly shaking with desire. Sherlock’s mouth was spicy and clever, his technique one of ardent curiosity and blatant need. “Tell me what you like.” said John as he began to kiss his way over Sherlock’s neck.

“Oh god, that! M..move closer to my ear….oh god!” Sherlock made a small whimpering sound that drove John right around the bend as he kissed his way around the patch of skin below Sherlock’s ear. John slid his lips down until he was just above Sherlock’s clavicle and sucked gently. Sherlock’s hips bucked and he cried out, “Jesus fuck John! That’s never felt like that!” John knew Sherlock liked to prove his facts so he did it again and once more Sherlock’s hips bucked and John’s head was now being held into place by Sherlock’s hands. “Do. It. Again.” he ordered so John obeyed. Sherlock groaned and shuddered.

Sherlock proved to be insanely responsive to every touch John gave him, the taller man crying out in astonishment over and over again at the gentlest caress. John licked a strip back up Sherlock’s neck and kissed his mouth hard, “I think we need to get to my room now. I’ve got lube there, and condoms.” Sherlock was nodding frantically, palming his erection to keep it from ripping through his worn pajama bottoms. John restrained himself. If he reached out to grab Sherlock’s arse the way he wanted to he’d be fucking his roommate over the arm of the sofa within minutes and that’s just not how John wanted to remember their first time.

“Not a virgin I take it?” laughed John and Sherlock snorted as they went up the stairs to John’s room as fast as they could.

“I went to university twice and I was a drug addict, so no John, I’m not a virgin.” Sherlock closed the door firmly behind John and crowded him to it, “I’m perfectly healthy. After I cleaned up I stopped everything, I haven’t had a lover since before I met you.”

John had definitely noticed the lack of dates and was very reassured by Sherlock’s statement but they were still using condoms. “I haven’t been checked out recently but I’m careful. We’ll use condoms for now, then we’ll see.”

Sherlock kissed John hard, sliding his hands down John’s back until he was cupping John’s behind. Yanking upward John suddenly found himself with his legs around Sherlock’s waist and his back pressed to the door while Sherlock rocked slowly into him, “However you want it John. I’ll take anything you’ll give me, gratefully.”

“Don’t get too excited, I may not be anything special.” teased John as he nibbled at Sherlock’s lower lip. The taller man groaned and rocked harder into John. “Maybe I’m dull and boring in bed.”

“Not fucking likely.” growled Sherlock who pushed away from the door and carried John to his bed. Letting him stand for a moment Sherlock stripped both of them bare, tossing their now unnecessary pajamas away before pushing John down. “What can’t I do?” asked Sherlock as he ran hungry eyes up and down John’s body.

“Sleep with anyone else, after that I’m pretty much game for anything.” Sherlock stopped cold and stared at John, looking almost disbelieving and John grew worried, “I’m sorry…I thought…” he thought they were beginning something together but maybe this was supposed to be a one-night thing. Sherlock was complicated about some issues and now John wondered if he’d over-stepped himself.

“I won’t John. I never will. I can’t. If I’m not with you I’m not with anyone. It’s already been that way for years and I will not change. I love you, do you understand? I don’t love anyone but I love you and only you.” Sherlock kissed John ardently, clearly trying to show John how he felt, trying to get John to understand how serious he was about this, “I’m already yours John and I always will be. What you want to do with me is all your choice.”

What didn’t John want to do with Sherlock! There wasn’t a thing John could think of that wouldn’t be a thousand times better because Sherlock was there. He couldn’t resist teasing him though, “What if I wanted someone on the side, there’s lots of pretty nurses out there.”

Sherlock growled into John’s neck and stilled once more, “You could have as many as you wanted John and I would not leave you.” John was startled at the serious answer and pulled back just in time to see the heartbreak on Sherlock’s face.

“Good thing none of them are as gorgeous as you then, right? How could I ever settle for less when I’ve got so much right here?” John kissed Sherlock hard, nearly biting at the taller man, “Sherlock I won’t want anyone but you ever again, I swear it. You won’t ever have to worry, not about me. I would never do that to you. You’re my best friend, the man who loves me, the man I love. I love you.”

It was so easy to say because it was so true. John loved Sherlock, every crazy speck of him. He was every fantasy John could ever have had, the most exotic and unobtainable person in the world, “You don’t have to say it.”

“I will say it, and I’ll damn well say it whenever I want! I love you Sherlock, have for ages now if I’m honest with myself and I haven’t been. I guess I’ve just gotten so used to our lives the way they’ve been it was too easy to just keep going that way. I might never have even thought about changing if you hadn’t started going out with the person who’s name you are about to delete.” Sherlock was smiling happily down at John, “Just his name though, I don’t want you to forget the reason we’re finally together, alright?”

“That’s entirely acceptable John. Can we have sex now?” John answered by nearly throwing Sherlock onto his back and climbing onto him. John licked and kissed Sherlock everywhere, finding the hard narrow planes of his body to be almost painfully arousing. John had no hesitation at all when he came to Sherlock’s cock which he found very beautiful as well as delicious. Sherlock’s groans were deep and rumbling, “John, slow….slow down…..oh god!”

John clambered back up Sherlock’s body and they rolled around together, kissing and biting at one another as their hands touched everywhere, their erections sliding against sweat soaked skin as they sighed and moaned. “Who first.” muttered John as he latched onto Sherlock’s nipple.

“Me, please. I want to explore you, memorize all of you but I can’t wait anymore. Want you. Hard. Very hard John.” Oh John wanted that too but he wasn’t a fool and pinned a writhing Sherlock to the bed as he prepared him, “No, just fuck me, fuck me!” cried Sherlock but John wouldn’t listen and finally had to force Sherlock across his knee to prepare him. Sherlock moaned appreciatively as he was manhandled.

John was completely enamored with Sherlock’s behind. No woman had ever had a backside as simply perfect as the one Sherlock Holmes owned. Easily he sank one well lubed finger in, “Eager aren’t we?” he teased again as Sherlock pushed back.

“Been wanting you for so long! I have toys, not as good as the real thing though!” gasped Sherlock who was now willingly accepting two fingers which went in with not as much ease. Sherlock moaned and wiggled happily, “Yes John, that’s exactly how I imagined you’d feel. Clever hands, clever, clever, clever hands.”

Sherlock’s ass was tight and hot, John had never felt anything like it. He liked the hardness pressed against his thigh too. Sherlock was rutting against him. John knew he was rushing but Sherlock was in an even bigger hurry and finally pulled off John’s fingers before he could get a fourth in there like he needed to. “Sherlock….”

Sherlock pushed John back onto the bed and ran an eager hand over John’s weighty erection, “John, how did you hide this from me all this time? If I’d know what was waiting for me I would have climbed into your bed your very first night on Baker Street.

John’s cock wasn’t extravagantly long but it was fat, heavier at the end and curved slightly toward his belly. Sherlock kissed it tenderly, flicking his tongue over his head before John could stop him, “Condom Sherlock!” Sherlock gave him a dirty look but managed to roll a condom carefully onto John before slicking him heavily.

“Don’t thrust.” he cautioned John. Sherlock knelt over John and sat down on John’s jutting cock. The head was so large Sherlock simply sat there for several moments and then he swirled his hips, just a tiny bit. John groaned as he held himself steady for Sherlock. It felt fantastic! Sherlock rumbled agreeably and did it again, this time getting off to swipe more lube onto his own ass and slick John even more. Sitting down once again Sherlock resumed his tiny hip swirls, slowly engulfing John’s cock one millimeter at a time. 

By the time the head was worked in Sherlock was shaking and sweating profusely but he looked blissful as well. When he had worked the first third of John’s cock into his ass he held himself still and trembled some more. John’s hands were clawing at the bedding, Sherlock’s ass was almost painfully tight but it all felt so good. Sherlock was moaning a bit now and sounded a bit distressed. John pulled out slowly and Sherlock just shook, “So big. I’ve never had someone that big before. God it’s good, I just need to take it easy.”

Sherlock was as good as his word. He rested for a minute or two then climbed back on after reapplying lube and began all over again. This time John’s cock slipped in with greater ease and Sherlock’s moan became a loud rumble as he inched his way down John’s shaft until he was fully seated. “Sherlock.” gritted John. He was on the edge, Sherlock’s body was too glorious, he was gripping John’s cock just perfectly and the man impaled on it looked flushed and dazed.

Sherlock had never seemed so beautiful. His blush was dark on his cheeks, his eyes shut and his brows furrowed together as he began to gingerly move. “J..j….johnnnn.” Sherlock was stuttering, his voice thick and deep with arousal. “Perfect.” he moaned, “Just perfect!”

John was struggling to keep his eyes from crossing it felt so good! They rolled back once or twice when Sherlock first managed to sink all the way back down with long smooth moves but that took a while to achieve, in the beginning the best he could manage was to rock up and down gently. Sherlock was trying to say his name but ended up just babbling out a series of grunts as his hips began to flex and he started to slide along John’s cock with greater facility. John couldn’t help himself and he thrust upward, hard. “OH FUCK!” Sherlock yelped and John just about pulled out in horror but now Sherlock was feverishly grinding down, his eyes wide open and shocked looking.

“Again John, do it again John, John, again again again again.” panted Sherlock so John thrust up hard one more time and watched as Sherlock’s eyes rolled back and his mouth hung open as he moaned so loudly the neighbors were probably vibrating. It got crazy then. Sherlock was mad for John’s cock and the harder John fucked him the wilder Sherlock got until John finally had to roll him over to pin him down. Even with his long legs bent nearly to his ears Sherlock still looked gorgeous as John began to fuck him with long deep strokes.

Sherlock was begging mindlessly now, his mouth straining toward his own cock as his hand slid up and down the reddened shaft anxiously as John drove into him. “I’m close Sherlock, fuck, I’m close. I want to see your come first. I want to see it all over your stomach, all over your chest. John snapped his hips several times now and Sherlock nearly shrieked before falling completely silent to choke out his orgasm.

John lost his mind for a moment when the pleasure broke over him. Sherlock’s belly was dripping with come, long thick blobs of it sliding over his muscles and down his sides, some of it splashed over his chest in heavy droplets and on Sherlock’s fingers where he’d stroked himself to completion. Sherlock was entirely limp now but John was too busy trying to breathe again. He managed to pull his softening cock out before there were issues with the well-filled condom but after that he was completely unable to move.

They slept for a few hours and then John woke up to find that Sherlock had given him a sponge-bath while he dozed so John was clean and sweet-smelling. Briefly. Sherlock got him sweaty in no time, both men frotting together, a mixture of laughter and moans as they enjoyed one another, “You split me in two John. I had to have a hot bath. My arse may never recover.” John giggled and so did Sherlock but then their cocks slid together once more and soon words were unnecessary.

They showered together of course. They were having a late lunch when a visitor came calling. It was the Fuzzy man. Sherlock invited him right in with a huge smile and shared a hug which earned him a kiss on the cheek from the other man, but John scowled and went to his room. So that’s how it was still. John felt sick. He’d clearly misunderstood everything Sherlock had told him. John wasn’t talking to this man, why was he even here? As the minutes went by John got angrier and angrier. Half an hour later Sherlock tapped lightly on the door, “John?”

“What do you want?” snapped John. Sherlock could just fuck off and go play with his friend who was clearly still important.

“Oh.” there was silence. “Nothing I guess.” Sherlock’s footsteps retreated down the stairs and John fumed. Nothing was right. John had nothing Sherlock couldn’t get anywhere else. That was clear enough. John decided he needed some air. Sherlock could sit here and daydream about his movie-star ex without company. 

John got dressed and stormed downstairs. “I’m going out.” he snarled, not even looking at Sherlock. John stomped down the stairs and left Baker Street in a snit. He walked the streets until his hip was so sore he needed to sit at a bus-stop until the throbbing subsided. He’d walked so far it took three buses to get him close to Baker Street once again. It hurt to walk the stairs and John was limping badly by the time he made it up.


	5. Sentiment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you've spent years denying something to yourself it's probably going to get all out of control the second you let it out.

Sherlock was screaming when the door opened, “WHERE WERE YOU? WHY DID YOU LEAVE? WHY DIDN’T YOU TAKE YOUR MOBILE? I ALMOST CALLED MY BROTHER TO FIND YOU!”

John hadn’t even checked for his mobile, not once. It must still be charging in his room. “I wasn’t needed here; you were practically climbing your ex when he arrived. I’m not fucking stupid Sherlock! What was last night to you? Some kind of game? Let’s see what John would do? FUCK YOU!”

Sherlock went white as a sheet and he actually staggered back, hurt infused in every note, “John? No! No that’s not what that was at all!”

“FUCK YOU!” John limped heavily up to his room and slammed the door shut. He felt stupid and angry. How Sherlock must have laughed when John told him he loved him. John really was an idiot; he fell for everything Sherlock had told him. It was just a game.

Sherlock burst into the room seething, “How dare you! How dare you EVER imply that I am unfaithful! YOU WERE RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME AND EVEN IF YOU WEREN’T….” Sherlock’s hands were shaking and his eyes were getting red. When he managed to speak again Sherlock’s softly uttered words tore at John, “I know how inadequate I am John. I know I have absolutely nothing of value to offer someone as marvelous as you but what little there is I would never give to anyone else. I had hoped that you knew me well enough to realize how hard it was for me to tell you how I felt. I’m sorry that it made so small an impact that you’d so easily think that I could…that I would….that…I…no, I….I. No John. Just no.”

John could barely look at Sherlock for the shame, “I’m nothing Sherlock. I’m old. I’m poor. I’m shabby.” he plucked at his trousers which he’d needed to hem himself. “I expected you to throw me over sooner or later. You’d get over your little bit of rough soon enough and be back with the sorts of people who are better for you.”

There was silence for a long moment, “Better for me? Who is better for me John? Before there was you I was trying to take myself out of this world because I couldn’t bear it. You make life worthwhile for me. How can you not see how good you are for me? Everyone, absolutely everyone has mentioned it!” Sherlock stood there for a long minute and when John risked a glance up Sherlock wasn’t looking at him. He was just standing in front of John staring at his own feet, his face twisted into the unhappiest expression John had ever seen. “You don’t trust me. I expect I deserve that. I’ve abused your trust so often.”

Sherlock left quietly, his shoulders slumped and his arms crossed over his stomach as if it hurt. John sat there and hated himself for his blind jealousy for only a second before tearing off after Sherlock, his hip aching so bad that he nearly fell the last couple of steps. Sherlock turned and caught John before he fell far, “Sherlock!” John gripped the taller man, “I’m so sorry Sherlock. I’ve been a monumental ass for no reason and I hurt you. I’m sorry, I am. I’m so sorry!”

There were teary tracks down Sherlock’s face which remained serious. “John, I swear to you I would never stray. Not for a moment, not for anyone. I understand that I’ve done this to myself, I don’t deserve…”

John cut him off, “You do deserve. You deserve everything Sherlock. I was unfair, wrong, just plain stupid wrong! I’ve been jealous of that man for so long now you could have stood across a crowded room from him and I probably would have reacted the same way. I’m sorry Sherlock! You don’t deserve to be mistrusted. I gave you no chance at all because I’m an idiot, a very insecure one. He’s half a foot taller than me, three years younger, and famous.”

“Is he a war hero, a soldier, a doctor, a detective, a survivor? Can he shoot to kill without hesitation or handle a corpse to search for evidence? Is he majestically scarred from doing valorous deeds, the glory of his past etched in pain for all to see? Is he hard and soft at the same time, brilliant and simple, clever and sometimes thick as a brick?” Sherlock stepped closer and John was grateful when his arms closed around him, “Does he fit perfectly against me, complement me in every conceivable way, does he make me shake from head to toe with want? No John. You are the only one who is all these things and so many more. You understand me the way no one else does and what you don’t understand you accept anyway. I love you John, just you. I will only ever be able to love you. That is all I am capable of.”

Sherlock still looked sad; the upset John had caused him still firmly seated. John hugged his arms around Sherlock’s ribs and squeezed him as hard as he could, “I love you Sherlock. I am so sorry for hurting your feelings like that. I was jealous and that’s no excuse. I guess we’re just going to have to work at helping each other because I think you’re the most incredible person on the planet and I have no idea why you find me so loveable but I am grateful. Sherlock, you will always be amazing to me, you’ll always be a little more than I think I deserve because you are such a gift that I wonder why the entire world doesn’t want a piece of you. I can’t ever promise not to get jealous again but I swear that even if I rage away I’ll come crawling right back as soon as I’ve calmed down so I can beg for your forgiveness.”

Sherlock’s eyes were red again but he looked happy so John decided it was a lovely shade of red, and brought out the blue in Sherlock’s multi-colored eyes. He bent down and kissed John between the eyes, “I’d always take you back John, I’ll always forgive you. I’ll never let you go, not completely. Maybe one day I’ll even be flattered, maybe.” Both of them gave watery laughs and held each other tight.

“M’not normally this weepy.” snuffled John into Sherlock’s chest. Sherlock was discretely dabbing his eyes with John’s hair, “My hip giving out.”

Sherlock helped John to his room where he helped the painfully groaning doctor strip bare and tucked him into bed. Sherlock got four paracetamols, and they had two each, sharing a glass of water. “I have a wretched headache.” admitted Sherlock. John made him drink more water before Sherlock joined John under the covers, also totally bare. Their aches and pains ebbed away as they held each other loosely, falling asleep as their tense bodies relaxed more and more.

The next week was full of tenderness and careful exploration but no actual sex. John worked at the clinic a great deal, Sherlock had observations to make on his new samples before they rotted, and there were a couple of small cases they helped out with when they were free. Sherlock and John slept together, kissed and touched one another but it wasn’t until many days had passed before both of them felt that more would be alright.

Donovan and Anderson were particularly annoying. Anderson’s knickers were in a bunch because John’s skills had now outstripped his by a considerable degree and being outshone by a brilliant madman was one thing, but being outshone by a frumpy doctor in a badly made jumper was too much for the over-proud Yarder. Donovan responded to her lover’s distress by making cutting comments at Sherlock who was kneeling next to the remains of a body along with John. They were deep in discussion while the other pair snarked, “I guess being the Freak’s pet all these years is finally paying off.”

“Well I probably learned more on my knees with Sherlock than you did with Anderson.” said John instantly and just stared at her, his jaw tense with anger. “I see you’re still cleaning his floors so tell me Sally, what’s that like? I get to call Sherlock my boyfriend but do you ever get to call Anderson yours or does his wife not like that?”

Anderson scowled but Donovan laughed, “Fuck off Watson. Don’t tell me you’re a bender now! You’ve been screaming to high heavens all this time about how “not gay” you are. What, did the Freak drug you again? Do you need to file a report?” She turned and shouted over her shoulder to the ever-present press that watched avariciously from behind the police barricade, “Hey, Watson and Holmes are shagging now! Snap a picture!”

They did. Dozens of pictures suddenly were snapped as Sherlock stood back up and came to stand beside John. Both men stared at Donovan before linking hands and walking toward the press who were over the moon with their response, “How long have you been together? When did you start going public?”

Sherlock looked at everyone soberly and began to speak while John scowled next to him; their hands still twined tightly together, “It was never our intention to go public with our relationship which has always been a matter of great privacy for both of us. However, Detective Sally Donovan has rather helpfully outed us without consultation and I feel therefore obliged to answer a few small and not too annoying questions, that is, if Doctor Watson is agreeable. John?”

“I don’t mind, I mean, if Donovan and Anderson are willing to expose their sordid extra-marital affair with one another I don’t see any reason to keep my stable relationship in the dark. Sherlock and I have been best friends for years now as all of you well know. When we got together isn’t any of your business nor is what we do in private so just shove off alright? We are and we will always will be best mates and who could be easier to love forever if it isn’t your best mate?”

That answer seemed to please the press very much because after a few quick shots of John and Sherlock standing hand in hand the horde tore off after Donovan and Anderson, more than one reporter demanding to know if Anderson was in an open marriage and if his wife would mind posing for a group shot of the three of them later. Anderson was speechless and horrified. Donovan’s face was filled with pure hate that she directed right at John and Sherlock. John stared her down and mouthed the words “You asked for it bitch.” to which she had no reply.

John took Sherlock home, at no time letting his hand go. “I’m never letting her get away with insulting you ever again, swear.” he muttered against Sherlock’s mouth. They were kissing passionately, Sherlock wrapping himself all around John as he moaned hungrily. “I love you Sherlock and that’s never going to be something I’m ashamed of. I love you and I really don’t care who knows.”

Later on a very worn-out Sherlock was being pampered on the sofa by a glowing John. He flicked on the TV and there was Fuzzy standing next to his hugely smiling friend, “Well I saw the news and I couldn’t believe what she was saying! I mean, we dated and it ended up going to hell but he was in love with Doctor Watson, no denying it. They had a rough patch and so did I but we parted as friends. Anyone who can’t see how devoted those two are is blind. If it weren’t for them I wouldn’t have my happy back. She’s a detective you say? Really?” That one skeptical word wreaked havoc for the Yard as the public demanded Donovan and Anderson be reviewed for their unprofessional behavior. 

Sherlock looked at John and John looked at Sherlock, both men grinning hugely. “Well, we’re out. How does it feel?” asked John. John still hadn’t heard from his sister but it couldn’t be long now. Maybe he’d let Sherlock take that call.

“It feels like it’s about bloody time.” said Sherlock who closed his eyes lazily. John went over and Sherlock pulled the doctor down until he was laying on Sherlock’s back. They cuddled together for a few minutes before John clicked the telly off and Sherlock rolled himself face up. The rest of the night was very enjoyable, if a bit loud and somewhat sticky, but filled with activities well worth repeating so they did so for the rest of their lives. After all, who better to spend such time with than your best mate, right?

A few weeks later their relationship was no longer a matter of public interest for the press, John had survived a visit from a very drunken Harry who tried to give Sherlock a slurred “Hurt my brother and you die.” speech before passing out on their sofa for an hour before John could get her into a cab to go back to her wife. John talked to Clara who passed a message along to Harry who came back a week later for a very sober visit with her brother over sandwiches and coffee. He thanked her for making the effort to come out one more time and she hugged him awkwardly but sincerely.

John got another bit of paper from the cartoon section and wrapped up a different small box, tearing off another scrap to write, “Not for fun” and leaving it beside the present. Nine hours later when he came home from work the note was gone but the box was there, opened and empty. John grinned like a madman and went about his evening like normal.

The next morning John found a present of his own waiting on the kitchen counter, also wrapped in a torn bit of newspaper, also with a scrap for a note, “You beat me by one day.” John tore open the small box and looked at the contents, his eyes damp and shining. With trembling fingers he extracted the heavy silver ring that bore the Holmes family crest. Sherlock’s deep voice rumbled behind him softly, “I was having it cleaned when I got yours.”

“It was my great-grandfather’s. I got Harry to have it properly sized.” said John without turning around. Sherlock’s long arms wrapped around him as Sherlock pressed himself to John’s back, their left hands linked tightly so their rings were side by side. They complimented one another, Sherlock wearing the broad silver band that had once been proudly worn by the first Doctor John Hamish Watson for whom he’d been named.

“I want to ask you anyway,” said Sherlock softly and John nodded. Sherlock kissed the back of his head first before moving forward a bit so their cheeks pressed together as Sherlock looked over John’s shoulder, “John, you are the brightest light in my life, the absolute best thing in my world, the most important part of my existence. I would consider it an endless honor if you would agree to be my husband.”

John had to swallow hard as Sherlock’s very heart-felt words were whispered into his ear, “The honor will always be mine Sherlock. I will marry you.” Sherlock managed to twist John around in his arms to kiss him both tenderly and passionately once more. “I love you Sherlock, yes I want to marry you.”

Sherlock held John tight and John could feel Sherlock also swallow hard. “I never once in my life expected to find anyone at all, not a friend nor lover, never a partner, or especially a husband. All these things are meant for you and you alone. I hope I keep deserving you John.”

“I hope we keep deserving each other. I’ve never been happier Sherlock, never. Even when we’re miserable together it’s still the best thing in the world for me. I love you, no matter what.” and just like that both men were perfect, their little broken pieces and missing parts reassembling until they became one entirely functional and unbreakable whole. Two small rings had been the only things missing to make their world complete and from now until the end of forever, John and Sherlock would always be perfectly perfect for one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D'aaaaaaaw


End file.
